


Dancing to the Beat of Your Heart

by alimacbrux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, bar au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alimacbrux/pseuds/alimacbrux
Summary: "Dan and Phil met in a bar, music loud, bodies dancing around them, a couple drinks later and everything went blurry, neither of them could remember what happened but they woke up in Phil’s bed, no clothes and with tangled limbs."





	1. Dan

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://alannaharlow.tumblr.com/post/175624870163/30-day-otp-challenge-2018-day-6-night-out-dan) amazing art by @alannaharlow on Tumblr.

The beat of the music pulsed around the club like lungs breathing in and out. The walls shook, the sound waves vibrating around the room in a way that matched everyone’s heart beats. They lived as one, people's pulses acting together in unison. Lights of all colours flashed around the room like variegated laser beams straight out of a sci-fi movie. It was enough to give anyone a headache. 

Dan was standing near the bar, looking around the room which was swimming with people dancing and swaying and grinding. It was an obscene tangle of bodies moving as one, sloshing beer and cocktails onto the white dance floor. Dan stood up on his tip toes as he searched the crowd for where his friends had gone. 

Of course— _of course_ —they were nowhere to be seen. They had forced Dan against his better judgement to go to this hell hole of bad decisions just to ditch him upon entering the building. Just great. Dan couldn't have asked for better friends. Honestly. 

He rolled his eyes, huffing a sigh and fiddling with one of his hoop earrings. Dan turned around to go towards the bar and, as if he were a magnet, immediately found his eyes zoning in on another man near the bar. He was leaned against it, a glass of _something_  in one hand and he was looking right at Dan. 

And then he was walking over.

Dan thought the man, whomever he was, was absolutely beautiful. He had shiny black hair swept back in a sleek quiff, luminescent pale skin which seemed to reflect the club lights like a mirror and, once he got closer, startling blue eyes. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and v-neck shirt with blue and red vertical stripes which complimented his slender form well. He gave Dan a broad, almost flirtatious grin, eyes glinting. 

“Hi,” the man said. And Dan promptly exploded. His voice was deep, deep enough to drown in, enough to make Dan weak at the knees already. 

“Hi,” Dan managed, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, tossing a curly strand out of his eyes and tried to put on some air of confidence. He placed a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow. 

Before he could come up with some kind of intelligent quip for the attractive man, the man spoke again. “‘Daddy’s princess,’ huh?” For a half second, Dan was confused by what the man said before he remembered what he was wearing. 

It had been a bit of a joke to wear it that night. He was wearing a pale pink crop top, showing off his ever so slightly toned abdomen. Written across the front in a cartoonish font, it said: Daddy’s Princess. Complimenting the outfit was a pair of _very_ short black shorts, a black choker and two black bracelets. No wonder he caught the man’s attention. 

Dan’s cheeks flushed a violent shade of pink as he looked back at the guy standing in front of him and replied smoothly, “Only if you’re into that.” 

The other man chuckled, a half smirk on his face. “Well, what is ‘Daddy’s princess’s name?” the man asked, eyes shining charmingly. The song which had previously been playing faded into another song, which was just as loud and just as electronic as the first. 

“Dan,” he replied casually, “And what’s _your_  name, handsome? I suppose it’s not ‘handsome’ is it?” He bit his bottom lip, grinning at the black haired man. 

“It’s Phil, but I’ll answer to ‘handsome’ if you like me to,” Phil replied, his smile widening again to show off his dazzling white grin. 

Dan looked around the room at the sea of drunks moving to the beat of the pulsating speakers and then back at the blue eyed man before him. “Wanna dance?” he asked, surprising himself. He _never_  danced, not in public, not to this wordless vomit of electricity and random, erratic instruments. 

“Sure.” 

And then they were dancing. 

Dan grabbed hold of Phil’s hand and lead him over closer to the centre of the dance floor, swaying his hips to the sound engulfing them. Phil laughed, one of his hands finding Dan’s waist. His hand brushed Dan’s midriff as it peeked out of the short crop top and Dan swore he was going to die from it. 

Perhaps it was just something about the absurdity of being hit on by an extremely attractive guy, but Dan felt an eruption of electricity to rival that of their surroundings. He was being both burnt and frozen, his skin prickling from the intensity of Phil’s simple touch.

And so they danced. 

Dan wasn't exactly sure when, but eventually they both had drinks and they were basically attached at the hips. Phil beamed at Dan as he held on tight to his hips, swiveling his own hips as he attempted to dance along to the music. Dan grinded his hips against Phil’s and distantly heard himself suggesting they get another drink. 

And then another. 

And another. 

And eventually, everything around them was moving around them like a kaleidoscope. Every object swam in and out of focus like a camera trying to get the perfect shot, flowing around Dan’s vision like he was underwater. He downed another shot, clinking it with Phil, though the usual satisfying tinkle of glass on glass sounded from a mile away. 

They were dancing again on the dance floor, Dan grinding his ass against Phil’s front while Phil gripped his waist like an anchor to the rest of the world. 

Then they were drinking again. 

Then they were hunched together in an empty booth, peering at Phil’s phone as it fluttered in and out of focus again. 

Then they were back on the dance floor. 

Drinking. 

Dancing. 

Talking in a booth. 

Drinking some more. 

Dancing… 

...Waking up…/

~~~

The next morning, or perhaps, that same afternoon, Dan finally opened his eyes to a blinding light shining right in his eyes. He winced, head screaming as he seemed to be looking right into a bright white luminescence. 

Upon further inspection, it turned out to be the sun just barely peeking in through the blinds and casting a thin strip of light across the bed. 

Dan blinked around at his surroundings, a sour taste in his mouth and a dull, thudding ache pulsating in his temples. Where was he? 

Dan tried to process more of where he was or what he had done last night but all that his brain could manage was to notice a heavy, solid weight across his stomach. His _bare_  stomach. Dan peered down, eyes widening as he saw an arm draped over his abdomen. He moved his eyes up the owner of the arm in question and found the man from last night. 

Phil was pressed up against him, clutching Dan like a cuddly toy, fast asleep. His eyebrows were knitted together in his rest, his mouth hanging open and emitting a tiny snore from the back of his throat. He was also covered in hundreds of bruises in varying hues and tones, ranging from pale pink to almost purple. 

No, not bruises. Hickies. 

What the fuck happened last night? The last thing Dan could vaguely remember was being on the dance floor. With Phil. 

Carefully, slowly, Dan lifted Phil’s arm off of his torso and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The sudden movement made Dan’s stomach lurch and his brain flip itself upside down and he had to touch his palms to his eyes for a moment until the wave of nausea passed. 

Once he felt up for it, he got up from the bed. He was surprised to find himself completely naked, just out in the world for all to see. He grabbed his crop top from where it was lying in a heap by the door and slipped it over his head. He was about to start looking for his pants when he heard a voice coming from the bed. 

“Dan?” 

Dan spun around, eyes wide. Phil was sitting up in bed, shirt off, looking at him with such a ferocious intensity Dan felt the need to look away. When he looked back up, Phil was still peering at him, head tilted sideways like a confused puppy. 

“Did we…?” Phil asked, voice trailing off as his cheeks burned violet. Dan looked down at his naked crotch and back at Phil. His navy blue duvet had fallen down his waist and Dan could see that he wasn’t wearing anything either. 

Dan burst out laughing. “You think?” he said through his outburst, “Do you...remember anything? Like, from last night?” 

Phil shook his head, leaning his head against his headboard and continuing to look over at Dan. It felt intimate the way Phil was looking at him, like he was being studied or perhaps admired. It made Dan’s cheeks burn a bright scarlet again and he started searching the floor for his pants, feeling exposed. 

“I’m assuming we, er, you know,” Phil said after a while, gesturing between them. 

Dan found his white Calvin Kleins peeking out from under Phil’s black dresser and grabbed them, slipping them on over his ass. He found his black shorts nearby as well and pulled them on next. Now that he was dressed, he felt much less, well, naked. 

“Are you going? So soon?” Phil asked, throwing his covers off his legs and standing up out of his bed. Dan darted his eyes away, feeling awkward about seeing him like this now that he was sober. Despite what obviously happened last night.

He didn't seem to care that he was standing butt naked in front of a literal stranger. 

“Yeah, I think it’s best,” Dan replied awkwardly, voice trailing off at the end. He scratched the back of his neck, hesitation pulsing through his bloodstream. “It was, uh, nice meeting you,” he added, opening the bedroom door and leaning against the doorframe. 

He didn't want to go. 

Why didn't he want to go? Why was this so hard? It wasn't as if he hadn't had one night stands before. He shouldn't be standing in this guy’s bedroom door, staring at him as if he was glued to the floor permanently. Perhaps Phil had some sort of magnetic Dan force that had him trapped in his room, in his life. 

“You sure you don’t at least wanna stay for a cup of coffee or something before you go?” Phil was stalling, Dan could tell. He had an awkward stance, sort of leaning on one foot, fidgeting with his fingers in front of him like he wasn't quite sure he knew what to do. 

Dan smiled softly, shaking his head sadly. He knew he had to go. He couldn’t just procrastinate leaving like he procrastinated everything else. Otherwise he might never leave.

“I’ll walk you out. Just let me get some pants,” Phil said, squatting down and grabbing a pair of green and blue tartan boxers which he clambered into, nearly falling over.

Dan stepped backwards out of the room and let Phil pass him, following behind him down the hall. It was long and white, decorated very plainly with a few posters of various bands and paintings from a range of eras and styles. Near the end of the hall, they came across another door with a crooked whiteboard which read in messy handwriting: David’s Room 

“That’s my roommate. David,” Phil explained, noticing Dan examining the door. Dan made a quiet noise of interest and they continued into the rest of the house. 

It was decorated with hundreds of different knick knacks scattered intermittently around the house. There was a cartoonish lamp sitting next to a giant red armchair and a tetris lamp by a tiny fireplace. A multi coloured vase which twisted around itself like a spiral sat on a wooden dining table, a small bouquet of white roses inside. It was messy in the sense that people obviously lived there, but not as if they didn't clean up after themselves. It looked _alive_ , as though the many different colours gave it life. 

Finally, they reached Phil’s front door, which was painted a vibrant shade of blue. Dan’s black leather Converse were sitting next to the floor, toe to heel as if they had been toed off in a hurry. Dan bent down and pulled them on, neglecting tying the laces. 

“I had a good time last night,” Phil said, opening the front door to reveal an ill-lit hallway with stone white walls and concrete floors. It was freezing, despite the London heatwave outside. 

Dan nodded, ruffling his curly hair nervously. “Er, yeah, it was. I’m glad my friends ditched me,” he replied, stepping out into the hallway. A breeze brushed across his skin, giving him goose pimples. “See you around, handsome.” He took another step backwards, biting his bottom lip and looking down at the floor with a blush sprouting on his face. 

Phil chuckled, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, see you later, curly.”

And then the door shut in Dan’s face and he was left alone in the hallway, staring hopelessly at it as if it was going to open again. It wouldn't. Dan could hear it mocking him, hear it saying to him, “Go away. It’s over. You’re never gonna see him again, loser.” Dan wanted to shout back at the door, tell it it was wrong, that he would see Phil again. 

But he knew he wouldn't. 

And so, Dan turned down the hall and made his way down the old stairway, his sad footsteps echoing on the floor. 

~~~

The next few weeks dragged on as if there was a weight holding it back. Seconds lasted as hours, hours lasted as days, days lasted as months. Dan wanted nothing more than to speed up time, but to when, he didn't know. Each day was an agony of monotony, droning on at a snail’s pace. 

Dan was standing behind the counter at the local shopping market, staring across at the next cashier desk, which was empty at the moment. In fact, the only other counter that was open was aisle three where his “friend” Kirk was situated. There were no customers in the store, leaving it deserted and silent but for the quiet hum of one of the broken lights overhead. 

Dan looked down at his watch, groaning when he saw he still had another two hours left of this hell. The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed and the aircon frequently shut off, leaving the entire building swelteringly hot. It left Dan feeling sticky and uncomfortable, horribly self aware of how he smelled, how his hair was frizzing from the humidity, how he had bags under his eyes highlighted by the artificial glare. 

The bell on the front door tinkled loudly and Dan’s head jerked towards it, though he wasn't sure why; it wasn’t as if it would be anyone interesting. As expected, an ancient old woman with frail skin, wispy grey hair and a cane hobbled in. He had seen her here before, usually coming in to buy a bottle of wine, Tetley’s tea and some kind of sweet. 

Dan leaned over the counter, drumming his fingers on the linoleum. His chipping, glittery nail polish sparkled in the luminescence like pathetic stars twinkling in an empty sky. His heart thrummed in his chest, beating in his ears like a constant drum. In the quiet of the mostly uninhabited shop, Dan’s pulse felt louder than normal, as though the silence had turned the volume up in his head at the turn of a knob. 

After almost 15 minutes, the old woman appeared from the end of the baking aisle carrying a wine bottle, a box of Tetley’s and a jumbo pack of Double Stuf Oreos. She looked to be deciding which of the two open counters to go to and then shuffled over to Dan’s at counter five. It took at least a century what with her age. 

Dan scanned the three items in quick recession and then looked up at the elderly lady and asked, “Would you like a bag with that?” He tried to put on a smile, but he was certain it didn't reach his eyes. 

“Yes, please.” 

Dan bobbed his head up and down and then grabbed a plastic bag, shaking it out to open it and stuffed the three items in the bag. The plastic rustled loudly when he plopped it onto the countertop.

“That’ll be £9.86 please,” Dan drawled. He watched as the lady, with shaky hands, pulled out a tenner and handed it over. Dan thanked her and opened the cash register, rifling around for change. 

“Keep the change,” she chimed, giving Dan a frail yet cheerful smile. Dan muttered an awkward thank you and tucked the £10 note in with the other £10 notes, sighing and dropping into the chair behind the counter. 

“God, I hate this job.” 


	2. Phil

“Come on, Phil, it’ll be _fun_.”

 “Yeah, don’t be a party pooper and come with us!” 

“You’re too antisocial, just join us.” 

Phil was currently sitting in his bed in just his pants, looking up at his three friends while they tried to coax him into going out clubbing—again—with them. Phil, who had had a long day of working at BBC as an editor and was all peopled out, was adamant that he just stayed in on his own. 

His friends, however, were adamant that Phil _joined_  them. 

“Guys, I’ve had a long day, I’m _tired_ ,” Phil insisted, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. As if to prove his tiredness, Phil yawned exaggeratedly, mouth open wide. 

His roommate David groaned, putting his hands on his hips and raising a single jet black eyebrow sternly at his friend. “Bullshit, Phil, you’re coming out with us tonight,” he retorted, voice solid and unwavering: Phil was not getting out of this. 

A broad grin swept across Phil’s face and he joked, “I already came out, like, last year. Remember?” Phil stood up on his mattress, swaying from the uneven footing on his cheap bed. “But if you’d like for me to do it again,” he said dramatically, clearing his throat, “I’m bisexual. Happy?” He sat back down on the bed, crossing his legs in a basket, wearing a cheeky smirk. 

Max, Phil’s only other gay friend, gave a slow clap, rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous, Philip Lester, honestly,” he remarked, shaking his head though a smirk was playing on his lips. “You’re coming with us and you know it,” he added, hands on his hips as well. 

Phil groaned, falling onto his back and kicking his legs like a cat getting its tummy tickled. “ _Fiiiiine_!” he moaned, covering his face with his arms. He sat up, leaning on the heels of his hands and added, “Can I get changed or do I have to go out naked. It might get me more action but...” 

“You’re the actual worst,” David groaned, picking up one of Phil’s pillows and tossing it at his head. “Get changed. You have ten minutes!” 

And then the door slammed shut behind the trio of friends. 

~

As per usual, Phil was not having a good time. His friends were off doing who knows what with who knows, leaving him alone by the bar to sulk with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was trying to tap his toes to the beat reverberating around the club, but, being as tone deaf as he was, he was failing rather miserably. 

The music was giving him a bit of a headache already, making his ears ring in a permanent hum like the music was inserted in his brain. Phil took another sip of his drink, feeling the familiar burn as it sloshed down his throat, making his eyes water a bit. He blinked away the tears and finished the last dregs of the liquid venom and put it on the bar counter. 

“One mojito, please,” he shouted to the bartender as she came near to clean the glass he put on the counter. She gave him a thumbs up and turned around to start making his cocktail. He watched her grabbing a long glass and bury it in the ice drawer, putting it down to grab the other ingredients. 

“Could I have a Piña Colada, please?” 

That voice was familiar. 

Phil spun around, jaw dropping to the floor as he came face to face with none other than Dan fucking Howell. Tonight, he was wearing white ripped skinny jeans, a v-neck lilac t-shirt and a white lace choker. Phil could have died at the simple sight of him standing there, less than two feet away. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Dan cooed, stepping closer and brushing his hand up Phil’s wrist. He had a coy yet seductive smirk on his face, a glimmer in his amber brown eyes like a flame trying to burn Phil from the inside out. That would explain why he suddenly felt hot all over. 

Phil smirked right back, biting his bottom lip and looking Dan up and down shamelessly. “Yeah, what a pleasant surprise,” he teased, touching his hand to Dan’s waist. He didn't know why, but he loved wrapping his hands around Dan’s slender hips, feeling the hip bone jutting out and pressing into his fingers like braille. 

Dan leaned into the touch, glancing over at something behind Phil. “I think our drinks are ready,” he said, jutting his chin towards the counter. Phil looked over his shoulder and saw that their drinks were in fact ready. 

For a moment, only a moment, Phil pulled away from Dan and turned back to the bar. He handed over his credit card to the bartender, pushing Dan away when he tried to pay himself, and then picked up their drinks, turning back to the delicious guy in front of him. He handed Dan his white cocktail in its curvy glass, orange umbrella sticking in a slice of pineapple, and got a sip from his own drink. Much better than whiskey. 

“It’s been a while. How are you?” Phil asked, slinking an arm around Dan’s waist and sucking on his straw. He lead the other towards an empty booth, pushing past the usual dancing drunks until he dropped into the purple leather seat. Dan slipped in beside him, placing his cup daintily on the table and putting his hand on Phil’s knee. 

Dan shrugged and said after a while, “No idea.” What kind of answer was that? Phil raised his eyebrows suspiciously, silently begging him to continue. Dan sighed, removing his hand from Phil’s knee(dammit)the clasp his hands together under his chin. “I’m fine. How are you?” 

Phil rolled his eyes. “Uhuh, avoid the question, that’s totally going to work,” Phil deadpanned, a frown growing on his face. If Dan was going to be vague like that, he wasn't going to get anything else out of Phil either. 

Dan grumbled, taking a sip from his drink with a pout. Phil was tempted to kiss the frown from his pretty face but just managed to keep himself from doing so. Just. “I’m just bored, you know? I’m working a dead end job at a fucking supermarket and I have nothing else going in my job. My only friends only ever want to go out for drinks and they drag me along to places like this just to ditch me as soon as they enter the building. But I’m fine,” he rambled, speech going at lightning speed. His words tumbled out of his mouth like word vomit, as if the only way he knew how to tell Phil was by fast-forwarding what he said. 

As soon as he finished speaking, Dan heaved a heavy sigh, tossed aside his straw and pineapple slice and took a chug of his Piña Colada. Phil watched, mesmerised, eyes wide with awe. It was _that_  difficult to say? 

“I’m sorry,” Phil breathed, voice only just above a whisper. He felt awkward, rude, pushy. He felt like he had pressured the poor guy into telling him something personal, something he usually kept in his head. 

Dan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. A strand of his curly brown locks fell into his eye but he ignored it. “It’s fine. I should probably tell the truth more often. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel like such _shit_  every time I say it,” Dan assured him, holding onto Phil’s forearm reassuringly. He shot Phil a soft smile, eyes twinkling. 

“I’m still sorry. I feel as though I pressured you to say that,” Phil admitted, taking another sip of his cocktail. It was sweet yet burning, the minty taste mixing with the rum and dancing in his oesophagus. 

Dan shrugged. “It’s honestly fine, Phil,” Dan repeated, moving his hand from Phil’s arm to his knee, squeezing it comfortingly. He left it there afterwards. “But can we change the subject, now?” 

“Of course, of course!” Phil said, nodding his head enthusiastically, “Do you wanna go dance?” He gestured towards the pulsating dance floor crawling with vivid, colourful people weaving around each other. Dan nodded and slid out of the booth, holding his hand out to help him up. He kept on holding Phil’s hand even when they got to the dance floor. 

Soon enough, they were grinding again, moving in time to the music pulsing in their ears. This club had pop music playing, everyone in the room joining in with their own drunk renditions of popular songs from throughout the years. The notes were butchered and screamed and thrown into the air like an obscene prayer, ringing in Phil’s ears and making his brain shake. 

Phil held onto Dan’s hips as he rocked his ass into Phil’s crotch, getting him increasingly hard. Dan was singing along to Mamma Mia, his voice the only thing Phil’s brain could focus on. _Dan_  was the only thing he could focus on, could think of, could feel so intensely. It was otherworldly, unreal, yet the most he had ever felt. 

“Do you wanna get another drink?” Phil whispered, his mouth right next to Dan’s ear. He watched the goosebumps standing up on the back of his neck, his cheeks burning in a bright scarlet fireworks display. Dan nodded and Phil led him over towards the bar, arm slinked around his waist. “What do you wanna get? Another Piña Colada?” he asked, leaning on the bar and looking at the cocktail list. 

He shook his head, his curly fringe falling into his face. “Nope. I’ll get a Strawberry Daiquiri, thanks,” he replied, shyly, fidgeting with his white jeans, his usual blush evident on his face. Phil gave him a thumbs up and ordered one of those and another Mojito from the bartender. 

They chatted for a little while over their drinks, leaning against the bar. It felt natural, like talking to an old friend. They were standing very close, Dan playing with the sleeve of Phil’s bomber jacket while Phil hooked his ankle around Dan’s. There was a permanent smile on his face as they went on about anything and everything. 

Phil could feel himself getting drunker, feeling like he was underwater. All of his movements were slowing and everything felt a bit more muffled and a bit out of reach. His vision swam more and more the longer he drank and soon enough, his head was pounding and his ears were ringing and he might as well have forgotten his glasses what with how blurry and out of focus everything became. 

As with every other time he was under the influence, his judgement flew out of the window with the birds and his inhibitions disappeared. He asked for two tequila shots with limes and ignored the voice at the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea. 

He ignored it as he clinked the glasses together with Dan, threw the liquid fire down his throat and stuck the lime in between his lips. He winced, nearly doubling over as the lime and alcohol went straight to his brain. He held onto Dan’s wrist for balance, blinking hard as his forehead pulsed more. He was distantly aware of Dan giggling and asking the bartender for another couple of shots, but he could have been in another country at this point. 

Three more shots later and they were stumbling into a taxi together. Dan told the driver his address and Phil slid into the seat right next to Dan, resting his cheek on Dan’s shoulder as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Dan chuckled, running his fingers through Phil’s quiff and then to his knee. 

It was nice in the taxi together. After less than a minute of driving, they were lazily making out, though neither was sure who initiated it. Dan was cupping Phil’s cheek while Phil gripped onto his t-shirt, leaning more and more into his touch. His head ached and he could feel his pulse _everywhere_ , but he hardly cared right now. 

All that mattered was that he had Dan right here with him. 

~

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Phil groaned the next morning as he felt his head splitting open, the music from last night still screaming in his ears.

Dan was lying shirtless next to him, one hand draped delicately on his chest, head tilted downwards and mouth open. He looked like Phil assumed an angel would look like, eyelashes fanning out like fairy wings, hair falling into his face in perfect waves like the ocean on a beach.

A grin melted across Dan’s face, dimples popping like swimming pools. “I can feel you watching me. It’s creepy,” he whispered, voice hoarse with sleep. He peeled his eyes open, looking up at Phil with such a fondness, he felt his chest tighten. 

“You’re pretty, I can’t help it,” he replied, sticking his tongue out. Dan rolled his eyes and rolled over, pressing a chaste kiss to Phil’s lips. Phil kissed back intently, smiling into it, teeth bumping messily. 

When Dan pulled away a moment later, grinning, he flopped onto his back, gazing back at him. “Did we… you know? Last night?” Phil asked, gesturing between them, face flushed. 

Dan smiled almost sadly, shaking his head. “You fell asleep halfway to my place last night,” Dan explained, “So I just helped you up here and you insisted on sleeping without your trousers or shirt on.” 

“Oh.” 

“I swear we didn't do anything,” Dan insisted, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I mean, I _wanted_  to, but, uh, yeah.” His cheeks were a vibrant carmine and he was distinctly avoiding eye contact. He hid his face in his pillow, groan muffled by the thick fabric. 

Phil pried the pillow from his grasp, putting it in his lap and sitting up against the headboard. He peered down at Dan, serene smile playing on his lips. Phil poked Dan’s shoulder, giggling, tongue between his teeth like a giddy five year old. That’s what Dan did to him; he made Phil giddy, made his stomach flip and fill with butterflies, made him feel on top of the world. 

“You should go.” 

And he made Phil’s heart drop to his stomach. His smile slipped from his face, replaced with a deep frown. Perhaps he hadn't heard Dan right. 

But Phil was sure he hadn't. Dan was fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, biting his bottom lip. Phil nodded understandingly, his heart lying in a bloody mess on the floor, discarded and broken. He swung his feet out of bed and grabbed his black skinny jeans from their heap on the floor, eyes roving around the room in search for his shirt somewhere.

“I’m sorry.” Phil looked up from where he was on his hands and knees, trying to retrieve his shirt from under Dan’s dark wooden dresser. Dan was standing up now, facing the ground, cheeks flushed. Phil tilted his head in confusion, knitting his eyebrow together. 

“It’s just—it’s my roommate. He-he wouldn’t approve of… this,” Dan explained, still looking anywhere but at Phil. He was now looking at one of the posters on the wall of his room, as if he hadn't seen it everyday. 

Phil put his shirt on, stepping closer to Dan and tilting up his chin. “Why wouldn’t he approve of it?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

Dan shook his head, looking away. He huffed a deep sigh and said, “We both know it’s because we’re both boys, Phil.” He stepped back from Phil a few feet, as if he wanted nothing more than distance between them. 

So this was goodbye. 

Again. 

“I’ll just show myself out, then,” Phil said, voice quiet. Dan didn't bother replying, simply bobbing his head up and down just barely. Phil waved sadly and opened Dan’s door, stepping into what looked like a living room. 

It had an old and frayed brown couch with a massive person sized indent in one spot and a large black coffee table with a small stack of old books. At the far end of the room, Phil could see a bathroom through an open door and another closed door. He assumed that was Dan’s shitty roommate’s room. There was also a kitchen area next to the toilet with an old marble countertop with a massive chip in the corner and black cupboards. 

Phil walked past the living room area and kitchen, opening the front door. Before he finally left Dan forever, he looked over his shoulder, hand still holding the doorknob. He caught a glimpse of Dan’s brown hair just as his bedroom door shut in a hurry. 

Goodbye, then. 


	3. Dan

It was nearly five am and Dan was still awake. 

He was lying on top of his duvet, staring up at his white ceiling, laptop open beside him. Its screen had gone dark ages ago, but Dan hardly cared. He didn't even notice. 

From the crack in his grey curtains, he could see it was already starting to get light out, a bit of baby pink peeking in. He hated how early it got light and how late it got dark in the summer. It was unnatural. 

Dan combed his fingers through his hair, mussing it up and dropping his arm over his eyes. He breathed in deeply and held on for a few seconds, gripping onto his grey duvet before exhaling again. He just couldn’t seem to get to sleep no matter how hard he tried, couldn't calm down enough, couldn't slow his racing thoughts. Every revelation known to man zipped around his consciousness, a permanent cycle of existentialism and self doubt and boredom spinning out of control. 

He wasn’t going anywhere in life. His job wasn’t going to help pay the bills much longer. He wasn’t ever able to properly love who he wanted because he was stuck with a shitty roommate. He had no one else he could go to instead. There was no _point_  anymore. 

Dan groaned out loud, rolling onto his stomach and punching his pillow, burying his face in the warm grey material. He knew he shouldn’t have these thoughts, but they sometimes liked to move to the forefront of his mind. They were the opposite of a moth; attracted to the darkness, to the cold and almost dead. 

Dan turned his head to look at his alarm, whining when he saw that it was already 5:07. He wanted nothing more than to sleep and yet all his body seemed to be capable of was staying up. 

He burrowed under the covers, curling his knees up to his chest and chewing on his thumb nail. He needed to distract himself from thinking about sleeping, needed to revel in something else. For everyone knew that a watched pot never boiled. 

The first thing that came to mind was Phil. It was his intoxicating oceanic eyes, his pillowy pink lips, his shiny raven hair. It was his slender fingers as they curled around his waist, his long, gangly legs as they tangled with Dan’s. It was his deep, molasses voice as he whispered in the dark and laughed like he held more secrets in his mind than any would ever know. It was the way he made Dan feel real, the way he smiled like Dan mattered, the way he held Dan in his sleep as though he never wanted to let go. 

Dan sighed, throwing the covers over his head as if he could hide from his own thoughts. His heart was thumping like a drum, beating as if it couldn’t get enough blood circulation. He felt butterflies—no, _moths_  flapping violently in his gut. They had knives for wings, ripping Dan apart from the inside because he couldn’t think this way. Couldn’t remember the pretty guy from the clubs around the corner. 

Not when Dan had been the one to kick him out of his life. 

Dan fell into an uneasy sleep not long after, filled with demons and cruel whispers, shouts and violence. He finally slept, but he almost wished he hadn't. 

~

“Woah, Dan, you look like you haven’t slept in a decade,” Kirk said as soon as Dan got to work that day. Dan had woken up at seven, unable to get back to sleep. 

Dan laughed humorlessly, rolling his eyes and making his way towards the back room. Kirk followed him down the aisle. “Thanks so much, Kirk, I didn’t know that,” he retorted, opening the door to the break room. He hadn’t bothered fixing his hair or anything, simply jumping out of bed and into his clothes and stumbling out of the front door without breakfast. He really didn’t want to see his roommate, Ben.

“Morning, boys, ready for another shitty day?” Alexia, one of the other regular employees, asked. She was sitting in one of the crappy blue armchairs, one foot resting on her knee while she scrolled through her phone. She was only 17, just working there for the summer. 

Dan snorted, dropping into the other chair. At that moment, their boss, Mr. Mahmoud wandered in, Starbucks coffee cup in hand. He jerked his head in greeting at the other three people in the room and dropped into his roller chair. “Howell, you’re opening up today,” he drawled, taking a long sip of his coffee and putting it down on the table. He logged onto the computer, yawning dramatically as if to show off how tired he was. Dan wanted to yawn even louder, just to prove his own lack of sleep.  

_Dan, don’t get into a yawn-off. Your lack of sleep is not a fucking competition._

Dan nodded stiffly, grabbed the keys to the front door and exited the room. He strolled through the cereal aisle, keys jangling in between his fingers to an unknown tune. He unlocked the front doors and flipped around the, “Sorry, we’re closed!” sign around to show the public, “Hello, we’re open!” Once he finished that, he slipped the keys into his pockets and wandered back to the break room, dropping the keys on the desk next to Mr. Mahmoud’s elbow. 

He grunted in response and told him to work register six. Dan just kept himself from groaning and made his way back out of the room. This was going to be a _looonnggg_  day. 

~

Dan was lying supine on his bed, feet where his head should be and phone hovering in the air over his head. He was scrolling mindlessly through his Instagram, double tapping and ignoring a blur of a thousand pointless images. He did not care about his old school friend graduating from medical school, nor the girl in his class having her second baby. He definitely did not care about the new product of tampons being advertised to him. 

What he _did_  care about was the new follower he had gained that second. He tapped the little white heart to see who it was and nearly dropped the phone on his face when he saw the name listed. 

_@amazingphil_

Dan tapped the person’s account and this time, he really did drop it on his face. He swore loudly as it smashed right into his nose and then thudded to the floor. The account was full of photos of none other than the beautiful man from the clubs. Some were photos of him smiling toothlessly with his arm draped around friends’ shoulders, others were pictures of landscapes from various corners of the earth. 

And others were selfies. 

There was a selfie of him showing off a new t-shirt, a selfie of him on the Brooklyn bridge, a selfie of him next to a tree and a pout on his face(it was apparently the site where he was attacked by a squirrel. Dan wanted to scream.). And then there was a completely shameless selfie of him without a shirt on. 

Despite having seen him shirtless on two previous occasions—he _had_  been quite drunk on both times—he was still shocked to his core at the sight of Phil lounging on a red beach chair, a pair of Ray Bans on and a colourful cocktail in hand. He wasn’t very muscular, but he was relatively toned, a small patch of hair present on his chest that Dan wanted to just run his fingers across. Most of all, the deadliest part of the picture was his smirk. The right side of his mouth was quirked upwards, his left eyebrow arched seductively. 

Dan had seen that very look thrown his way. 

That was the face of someone who _knew_  they weren’t half bad to look at. 

And he was damn right. 

Dan double tapped the photo without hesitation. He hardly cared that the photo was taken back in March. He tapped the blue “Follow” button and his eyes shifted to accommodate it switching to a white “Following.” It was satisfying to look at, like the simple switch from blue to white meant something. Like this was some sort of _sign._ Some sort of symbol of a relationship to come, whether sexual, romantic or, even platonic. 

Or, it was just Dan following him back. 

Either way, his heart would not listen to reason. It simply did the fucking tango in his chest, thumping to the beat of the music in the club they had met in almost a month ago. It was excited, happy, _careless._  

And that was how Dan ended up sending Phil a fucking _DM_. 

Dan: hey, stranger, long time no see ;D 

After only a few seconds of the agonising “amazingphil is typing…” a message from Phil popped onto the screen like a deadly explosion. 

Phil: Yeah. Wish I could have seen you sooner. 

Dan: oh? 

_amazingphil is typing…_

_amazingphil is typing..._

 And then another message appeared on the screen. In fact, he sent _two_. 

Phil: Yeah. Almost went clubbing last night just on the off chance I might get lucky and see you 

Phil: Then I remembered not to think with my heart and my penis and stayed in to eat Pringles until 2

Dan giggled, pressing his face into his palm. An image of Phil in just his pants, hand stuffed in a tube of Pringles popped into his mind. It left a tingly, warm feeling all over, kind of like coming home. 

Dan: that's an image and a half right there ajhfiebej

Phil: ;~) 

Dan chuckled at the emoji, heart strings tugging him in through the screen and right into Phil’s arms just a few miles away. He put aside his phone and got out of bed, fully expecting the conversation to be over, as that was the natural ending.

But just as he reached for the doorknob to go to the toilet, he heard his phone ding, screen lighting up. Eyes wide, Dan hurried over to his bed and grabbed his phone. Sure enough, Phil had sent another message. 

Phil: wuu2

Dan could lie. He could say he was out clubbing again or with his friends or something that would make him look cool or normal. But then again, he wanted to be genuine with Phil. Wanted to tell him about everything going on in his life and wanted him to trust him. If he trusted Phil with the truth, perhaps Phil would trust _him._ From trust comes trust.

And so, Dan told the truth. 

Dan: absolutely fuck all. i was just looking through my insta, bored out of my fucking mind 

Dan: kinda glad you followed me…

Phil’s reply came almost immediately.

Phil: Me too. 

Phil: I’m glad you messaged me. It feels like forever sice I saw you. 

Phil: Since* 

Typos. Dan loved the fact that Phil made typing errors like Dan. He wasn't quite sure why, but there was something almost endearing about it. He really was screwed.

Dan: it feels like decades since i last saw you. 

Should he do it? Should he say the one sentence that kept turning through his mind, kept whispering in his ear, pushing him over the line? Honesty was the way to go, right?

Dan took a deep breath, typed his message with shaking hands and hit send.

Dan: I miss you. 

When Phil’s messaged didn’t immediately come, Dan started to panic. He had gone too far and made Phil uncomfortable. He had creeped him out and he would never want to speak to Dan again. Dan wanted to retract from what he had said, wanted to go back in time and slap himself for even thinking that would be a good idea. He wanted to unsend his feelings, delete them from the world, live his life as a social recluse who never had to worry about being awkward or annoying or stupid. He wanted to be swallowed up in a— 

Dan’s phone chimed again from where it was lying at the edge of the bed.  Dan scrambled for his phone, unlocking it to see what Phil had said. Would he be annoyed? Creeped out? Confused? What if he no longer wanted anything to do with him? / But that wasn't what Phil did. Not even close.

Phil: I miss you, too. 


	4. Phil

Dan missed Phil. He had said so, plain as day. He had seen Phil followed him and decided to message him _because he missed Phil_. 

And Phil had agreed. 

Dan: you still never told me what YOU’RE doing :) 

Phil: Thankfully, messaging you ;D 

Phil: and eating pringles. 

It was true. He was sitting on top of his covers, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, holding the can of crisps in the crook of his elbow. What he _wasn't_  telling Dan was that his other hand was… occupied. 

When he was waiting for Dan’s replies, he was scrolling through Dan’s 1267 posts. Many of which were selfies. Many of _those_  were shirtless. Phil was fucked from the beginning. 

Dan: looks like we’re both antisocial losers 

Phil chuckled, typing back a quick response (Yeah, I guess we are) and going back to looking through Dan’s Instagram. He was particularly enjoying one of Dan wearing very low waisted, very tight black skinny jeans and nothing else. His hair was straightened in this one, fringe falling into his eyes and his bottom lip between his teeth. Phil didn't know why, but something about it made his stomach turn inside out, tying the knot tighter. 

He got a notification just then from Dan saying that he liked one of Phil’s pictures. Upon further inspection, it turned out to be a photo of him last summer when he wasn’t wearing any shirt, pool water dribbling down his chest. 

He imagined Dan looking at that photo while doing exactly what Phil was doing then. He imagined him with his eyes screwed shut tight, hand cupping himself as he desperately grappled for some kind of sexy photos of Phil. He could see him as he quietly moaned Phil’s name, unable to get any louder because of his roommate. He saw Dan speeding up his hand movements at the same time that Phil did, jerking his hand up and down on his length, thumb going over his slit. 

Phil hissed in pleasure, head falling back against the headboard as he pulled and twisted, faster and faster each second. His breathing was ragged, desperate, ravenous, as if he couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs to fill his need for air. He found another picture of Dan wearing a fucking sexy maid’s outfit for Halloween and felt his release approaching like a freight train. The knot in his gut tightened even more, hand moving furiously along his length, obscene sticky noises filling the air. 

Dan: i see you liked my sexy maid costume. you kinky fucker ;) 

Oh God, he _did_  like it. And the photo was taken almost a year and a half ago. There was no getting out of that one. Phil slowed his motions for a split second, guilt settling in his chest at what Dan must have thought knowing Phil liked that photo. 

And then he sent a photo. 

“Oh. My. God,” Phil muttered as he caught sight of the photo Dan sent. He was in the maid’s outfit again, only this time it was from a year and a half later. He had a sly smirk on his face, a wanton eyebrow raised, and his free hand on his hip. The most arousing part of the whole thing was that Dan seemed to have grown since he last wore the costume, making it much shorter than in the photo he posted online. It fit him snugly, showing his every curve in detail, just _barely_  covering his ass with how short the skirt was. 

Phil: Was your plan to kill me because if so you were successyful 

Phil didn't bother fixing any typos as he oggled at the sultry, provocative mirror selfie, the pressure in his stomach unbearable. He yanked his pants all the way down his thighs, giving himself more room to reach his approaching orgasm. The room came in and out of focus, his hand going at light speed. “Oh, fuck, _Dan_ ,” he groaned, spilling over his fist with one satisfying explosion of ecstacy and arousal. His come leaked down his fingers as he worked his way out of his climax, leaning back against the headboard. 

Phil: Thanks for that. 

Dan: ? 

Phil: Greatest. Wank. Of. My. Life. 

Dan: and now i’m blushing dammit 

Phil giggled, reaching for some tissues to clean up his mess, smiling at the image of Dan blushing as a result of Phil’s borderline filthy flirtations. It was adorable, comfortable, homely. Phil wished he could be back in Dan’s room, holding him in his arms to shield him from the world. 

But he couldn’t do that. 

Because Dan didn’t want him around. He had made that abundantly clear from kicking him out the last time they were together. That had been pretty heartbreaking. His heart still panged at the memory, like it was physically cracking. 

And then Dan messaged him again. 

Dan: if my roommate wasn't such a dick, i stg i never would have let you leave the other day 

And Phil spontaneously combusted. 

~

Phil looked around the room from where he stood near the corner of the extra crowded bar, half empty glass of some drink called the Sunrise, Sunset in hand. There was something extra stuffy about that night’s club, something suffocating and claustrophobic. Whether it was the much more dense crowd or the louder-than-should-be-possible “music,” Phil wasn't sure. Something about that place was just _too much_. He didn’t want to be there at all and yet he let his friends drag him there as usual. 

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” said a voice behind him. At the sound of the familiar tone, Phil whipped around, nearly dropping his cocktail as he came face to face with none other than Dan Howell. 

He was cute yet subtle that day with a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt tucked only in the front, complimented by an eye-catching sparkly bomber jacket. His hair looked extra curly, too. Phil grinned, agreeing wholeheartedly. Phil realised then that all he wanted was to run into Dan somewhere normal, somewhere subtle and lowkey, somewhere he wasn’t drunk off his ass after an hour. 

“I think the universe is telling us something,” Phil remarked, taking a sip of his alcohol, being overpowered by a strong taste of orange and watermelon. 

Dan snorted, shaking his head, eyes closed for a moment. “Yeah, that we’re socialising way too much for a couple of self-proclaimed antisocial introverts,” he replied, smirking mischievously. “That or it’s telling us we have a drinking problem.” 

Phil rolled his eyes at his cynicism. “At least we’re introverts that interact with people!” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly. As Phil took yet another sip of his too strong cocktail, he noticed Dan’s empty, cocktailless hands as they drummed subconsciously on his thighs. “Do you want a drink, by the way?” he asked, holding up his own colourful mess of a drink. 

“Sure, but 1. I’m paying for it myself and 2. I don’t want to get too drunk tonight. For once,” he replied, starting towards the bar, the sparkles on his jacket catching the light iridescently. It was mesmerising to look at him as the multicoloured lustre of the room reflected off his coat and made him look like a shimmery disco ball. 

Phil raised an eyebrow as they reached the bar. “Why not? You’re at a club, you're _supposed_  to be pissed,” Phil replied, only semi-joking. He heard Dan ordering a simple Mojito and then the curly haired man turned back to face him. 

He had a serious, set face as he looked at Phil now. His mouth was pulled into a straight line, his eyebrows knitted together as if attempting to focus intensely on Phil. “I want to remember the time we spend together for once,” he said, not a hint of sarcasm or mocking in his voice. It shook Phil to his core, almost made him weak at the knees. 

He nodded slowly, his mouth slightly ajar as the suddenness of Dan’s comment tried to sink in. And then, all at once like diving into the deep end of a freezing pool, it really sunk in. Dan didn’t want to forget what happened with them. He didn't want to pretend it hadn't been real or just an absurd dream. He wanted to _remember_. 

“One drink and then we can just drink sodas or something,” Phil replied after what felt like a decade. No, a millennium.

Once Dan got his drink and paid, Phil was grabbing his other wrist and pulling him over to an empty booth. It took longer than normal due to the vast number of people stumbling and grinding around them like the intermittent beat drops and blinding lights were somehow enjoyable. 

Phil dropped low in the seat, letting out a weighty breath and near enough slamming his drink down on the sticky metal table. His head was starting to hurt already from the lights flashing violently around him. He felt the seat dip as Dan sidled in next to him, his presence only a few inches away but still absolutely electric, as if he radiated heat. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, resting a comforting hand on Phil’s knee and looking into his eyes. He had a genuine, concerned frown on his face, eyebrows sewn together and lip between his teeth. 

Phil shrugged, shutting his eyes to hide from the bright luminescence. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied weakly, “Just a bit of a headache.” He lifted up his cocktail and took another drag from his plastic straw. The alcohol in the drink only made his head throb more. 

“Do you—do you wanna go somewhere else? Or I can go get you some water or something,” Dan offered, looking around the room in search of an invisible idea. 

Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm, trying to ignore the electrifying tingle this caused, and insisted, “Dan, honestly, I’m fine. It's just loud.” Dan raised a suspicious eyebrow, skepticism etched on his every feature. “One drink and we’ll go.” Dan looked to want to say something, to protest, but decided against it and settled more comfortably in his chair. 

Right against Phil. 

Dan was pressed right against Phil’s side, his body warm and inviting. It brought a strange sense of calm that eased Phil’s pain just a tad. As if Dan’s skin held a healing element. Dan’s hand wandered around, searching blindly under the table. Before Phil could open his mouth to ask, Dan’s hand bumped his and he interlocked their fingers together. It was barely clammy, his thumb swiping back and forth on the back of Phil’s hand. 

They stayed silent for the entire time they were in the club together. They sipped their drinks and watched people interlacing together and walking past, Dan and Phil’s fingers never unclasping. Phil moved his head to Dan’s shoulder, reveling in the slight itch of the material, eyes shut serenely as he continued to drink scatteredly. They were in their own little world together, that disgusting couple that paid no attention to anyone else but each other. 

And Phil loved it.

 “Do you want to go somewhere quieter? We’ve finished our drinks, now,” Dan suggested after almost half an hour of simply _being_. Phil blinked out of his thoughts, sitting up straight and bobbing his head up and down. 

Dan slinked off the squashy bench, offering a hand to Phil. Phil giggled, taking his hand and clambering out of the seat. “Why thank you good sir,” he cried, putting on a thick posh English accent. Dan rolled his eyes and pulled him towards the exit. 

Phil was, admittedly, thankful for Dan’s presence as he pushed and tripped through the intruding crowd. As they swayed and swarmed together like a pack of dogs advancing on prey, Phil’s heart sped up erratically. He clutched Dan’s hand tighter and they finally made their way up a small flight of stairs and onto a bustling city street. It was almost as alive as the club below, party-goers and druggies shuffling and hurrying past them on their way to the next location in their lives. 

Phil pulled out of Dan’s grasp when the door shut behind them, resting his hands on his knees and squeezing his eyes closed, trying to steady his heartbeat and breathing. Everything was too much. The thrumming music was still ringing in his ears and his pulse was in his forehead and his eyes stung from the blinding lights of the club. He needed a minute. Or a year.

“Phil? Are you sure you’re okay?” Dan asked, placing his hand between Phil’s two shoulder blades. It acted as an anchor, keeping him from floating too high.

Phil held up a single finger, still breathing heavily through his nose. After another minute of taking deep, slightly shuddering breaths, Phil felt himself calm down fully and stood up again. “Sorry about that. I’m not the biggest fan of crowds and that was… yeah. That was a large one in there,” Phil explained meekly, fidgeting with his button down covered in corgis. 

“Yeah, I get that,” Dan replied genuinely, “I was only in there for like half an hour and even that was a bit suffocating. I’m sorry.”

Phil shrugged dismissively and looked around the street for somewhere else to go. “Do you wanna go somewhere or just go to my place? I’m down for whatever,” Phil asked, watching a drunk man waddle past them with his trousers halfway down his butt and carrying a bottle of mystery liquid. 

“Let’s get a chippy. That would be _so_ good right now,” Dan said, pulling on Phil’s sleeve like an excited child. “That’s a classic drunk person food, we _have_  to get it.” 

Though as he started following Dan in the direction of the nearest fish and chips shop, he pointed out, “But neither of us is drunk. We’ve had one drink each.” Dan waved his hand dismissively and moved his hand from Phil’s shirt sleeve to hooking their pinkies together. It made Phil’s heart do a happy little cartwheel inside his chest.

They made it to a small chip shop not long after, thanks to the abundance of them on every street in the UK. It smelled strongly of vinegar and had a statue of an alien with a giant Justin Bieber mask on it standing by the entrance. An intoxicated couple of girls were sitting at one of the three high tables, hunched over a white box of fish and chips and giggling together. The guy behind the bar was an irritable looking Spanish man with a scowl on his face and a sad looking mustache drooping over his lips. If this scene wasn’t the most British thing in the history of _ever_ , Phil wasn’t sure what was. 

“One order of fish and chips and—what do you want to drink?” Dan began, pausing their order to turn to Phil. He shrugged, indifferent to what they got. “And a Coke please,” he added, already holding out the money. Phil tried to protest but was slapped harshly on the back of his hand by Dan. 

The man handed back the change and the dripping, freezing soda over to Dan and went to work making them their meal. After about two minutes, he slid across a white styrofoam box which was warm and slightly wet on top with condensation. They both thanked the man and stumbled back out onto the street. 

“Let’s go eat this on a bench and then we can head over to my place,” Phil said, pulling Dan by his wrist in the direction of an empty bench sitting sadly on the curb. Phil dropped into the seat, closely followed by Dan who popped open the lid of their dinner and unscrewed the cherry red cap on the Coke. He curled his ankle around Phil’s, which Phil thought was very intimate, and offered him the box to take some of the chips. 

Phil muttered his thanks and stuffed a couple of the salty yet sour chips in his mouth, his fingers already drenched in grease and vinegar. Dan watched Phil nearly choking on the chips in his mouth and giggled, shaking his head, a fond smile on his face. 

“You’re such a dork. This is why you _don’t_  stuff all three of them in your mouth,” Dan remarked through his laughter, sticking a single greasy chip in between his teeth, waggling his eyebrows flirtatiously. 

They tore into the rest of their meal like scavengers, stuffing chips and bits of fish in their mouths until they were covered in oil, vinegar and salt. Phil licked each individual finger, a bright and childish grin on his cheeks. Dan giggled loudly, tossing his head back and suckling teasingly on his own pointer finger. 

“You wanna call a taxi to my place?” Phil asked a few minutes later when they finally got up from the metal bench and started down the pavement together. Their footsteps were synched together, hitting the concrete like a professional marching band. Dan shrugged, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. He kicked a stray pebble with his white tennis shoe, watching it skip across the road a few times. 

Phil pulled Dan’s arm closer to the edge of the pavement, effectively running into a man in a business suit and put his free hand into the street to catch the attention of one of the many black taxis roaming the streets. After a few tries, a black taxi advertising a Debenhams on the side of the door pulled up to the curb. Phil pulled the sliding door open and climbed in, leading Dan along.

He told the driver his address and settled down in one of the seats, putting on his seatbelt. Dan squished into the seat next to him, buckling his own seatbelt and resting his head on Phil’s shoulder. He reached for Phil’s hand and weaved their fingers together again, holding onto them firmly. 

The taxi pulled up to Phil’s flat a few minutes later and Phil paid quickly before dragging Dan up towards his flat. He was determined to remember this night. For once. 


	5. Dan

Phil was pulling Dan all the way up the winding stairs leading to his flat, a man clearly on a mission. Dan stumbled over his feet a few times, heaving from hurrying up the steps so fast. It was as though Phil was working with a time limit, as though he could only complete his mission in a certain, confined time. 

Maybe he just wanted to get over with being with Dan. 

Phil shut his front door behind them and dropped his keys into a bowl shaped like a cat. “So, uh, what do you wanna do? David won’t be back until tomorrow, most likely,” Phil asked, looking around the room, face flushed. He looked almost… uncomfortable. 

Dan bit his lip, shrugging to feign nonchalance. “I don’t mind,” he replied, bouncing back on his heels. He was still holding Phil’s hand, which was warm and soft and made Dan never want to let go. 

“You wanna make out?” Phil asked seriously, raising a single eyebrow. The eyebrow to end all eyebrows. 

Dan’s face split open into a wild grin and he moved forwards, pulling Phil towards his chest. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to Phil’s and downright _exploded _. He had never been even remotely sober while he kissed Phil, but now he never wanted to kiss Phil when he was drunk. He’d never get the full experience.__

__Kissing Phil was like waves of a tsunami pulling away from the rest of the world just for them to come crashing back to the rest of the world, overpowering and ferocious. Kissing Phil was hands roaming and tongues searching and hearts beating together. It was a dance, moving together and finding their rhythm, pushing and pulling and sharing air. It was powerful and needy and breathtaking._ _

__Dan pushed Phil back a few steps, following him without disconnecting their lips. Taking the cue, Phil pulled Dan back until he was pressed against the wall, kissing Dan like it was impossible to stop. Dan pulled Phil’s shirt halfway up his torso and Phil ripped it off in a flash, throwing it away for them to find later. He removed his lips from Dan’s, replacing them on his neck, forcing a moan to bubble out from between Dan’s lips._ _

__Dan’s hips jerked against Phil’s and he reveled in the hardness of the man in front of him, knowing that was his own doing. He tilted his head back to give Phil more access to where it made his head burst with pleasure in a primal, instinctual way. He couldn’t help the noises that came out of him, soft chants and whispered moans bursting out._ _

__“Can–can we bring this to the bedroom?” Dan asked as Phil’s teeth dragged along his skin, tracing fire into his skin. He gripped onto Phil’s wrists like a vice, trying to keep from floating away._ _

__Phil nodded eagerly, taking a step forwards and pushing Dan backwards. “Are you heavy?” Phil asked suddenly, making Dan pause in his steps towards the hallway with the bedrooms._ _

__“Uh, no? Why?” Dan asked, knitting his eyebrows together in suspicion. Without answering Dan’s question, Phil swiped Dan off of the ground, wrapping his legs around Phil’s waist. Dan yelped but let Phil carry him into his bedroom._ _

__Phil dropped him onto the bed, crawling over him to press another hungry kiss to his lips. Dan reached out blindly for Phil’s belt buckle, leaning up to kiss Phil harder. He nipped Dan’s bottom lip, helping him to undo his trousers and kick them off behind him on the floor._ _

__The whole ordeal was hot and messy and disorganised. They moved together like music notes, playing a melody filled with harmonies and chords. They were water rushing jauntily over rocks, silk threads weaving desperately together, flowers growing together in a garden with vines wrapping delicately around each other. There was sweat and moans and bites and kisses._ _

__There was nothing left between them but the thin white sheets that tangled around and between their legs. Phil grunted as he thrusted inside of Dan, their moans mixing together in a harmony of emotions and sounds. He kissed and bit Dan’s collarbone, paying extra attention to a particularly large freckle in the middle. Dan was a writhing, whimpering mess as Phil unraveled him at every press inwards and pull outwards._ _

__“Oh God. OhGod. Oh God,” Dan chanted as Phil sped up his movements, pinning Dan’s hands over his head in one hand. “Oh God, _Phil _. I’m getting—” he babbled, unable to get out a coherent thought or word as the tug in his gut pulled tighter and tighter.___ _

____Phil nodded understandingly, moving his free hand in between them to tug and twist at Dan’s length. Dan’s breath caught in his throat, heart skipping a beat at the sensation of Phil’s warm hand on his throbbing arousal. After only a few more thrusts and two pulls on Dan’s cock, Dan was coming on his chest, chanting Phil’s name like an obscene cheerleader._ _ _ _

____Phil followed close after, breathing heavily in and out like he had run a marathon. They laid there, side by side, matching their heavy breaths together as they came down from their highs. Phil reached under the covers for Dan’s hand and locked their fingers together._ _ _ _

____Dan looked down at their intertwined fingers, admiring the contrast between Phil’s pale, almost translucent skin and his sun kissed complexion. He liked the way their hands weren’t too different in size, neither too overpowering or small. Dan brushed his thumb across the back of Phil’s hand, feeling the smooth, silky skin like traveling across a star filled galaxy. His thumb travelled over the hills and valleys of Phil’s knuckles, dotting the constellations formed from his scattering of freckles._ _ _ _

____Eventually, Phil pulled out of Dan’s grasp and clambered out of bed. Dan protested quietly, but Phil returned a moment later with a wad of tissues to clean Dan up and throw away the used condom. Once he finished that, he crawled back into bed and pulled Dan onto his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around Dan’s middle._ _ _ _

____Dan nuzzled into Phil’s warmth, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Phil’s chest. He could hear Phil’s heartbeat thumping in his ear and it acted as an odd sort of comfort, as if it ensured that Phil was in fact real. Dan was truly lying in this beautiful and caring man’s arms after having some of the best sex of his life. Dan was truly listening to someone else’s heartbeat. He was not alone._ _ _ _

____With the harmonic, comforting thoughts dancing through his mind, Dan fell asleep easily. He matched Phil’s breathing and felt himself tumbling into a dreamlike state not unlike what he just partook in._ _ _ _

____He was almost asleep when he could have sworn he heard Phil whisper, “Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____But he was probably just hearing things…_ _ _ _

____~_ _ _ _

____When the sun trickled in through the curtains the next morning, for once, Dan wasn’t even annoyed. Phil was halfway down the bed now, face smushed into Dan’s side and fingers interlaced with Dan’s still. Dan smiled down at the adorable mess tangled up with him, the covers thrown off his legs and piled in a clump next to Dan._ _ _ _

____Dan sighed contently, shutting his eyes serenely from the calm brought on by Phil. Just his simple presence tamed Dan’s doubts and stilled the tsunamis raging in his brain. He quieted the thoughts of hopelessness or hesitation and cradled him until he felt new again. Phil’s appearance in his life was sudden and unforeseen, but Dan was thankful for the turn of events that had brought them together._ _ _ _

____A few minutes after Dan woke, Phil peeled his sleepy eyes open and tilted his head up to look at Dan. A fond, goofy smile danced on his lips and he used his free hand to pull Dan’s face down to meet his, pressing a firm yet soft kiss on Dan’s lips. He grinned into it, pulling Phil closer by his shoulders to avoid getting a crick in his neck._ _ _ _

____It was lazy and slow, neither of them trying any special “tricks” to impress. They were just exploring, tasting, kissing. It was soft and easy and it made Dan positively melt just from where Phil’s hands placed themselves. One hand was holding the back of his neck while the other made its way towards Dan’s ass, resting just above it. It was delicious and sultry._ _ _ _

____“Do you–want–to get–some–coffee?” Phil asked through kisses, pulling back to look down at Dan with wide, cheerful eyes. They crinkled in the corners from his smile, tugging at Dan’s heart strings. “I just feel like we always just, you know, go our separate ways the morning after,” Phil continued, looking sideways. Dan could tell he felt awkward asking for this, though Dan couldn’t blame him after he basically kicked him out last time._ _ _ _

____Dan sat up, letting Phil roll off of him and look anxiously up at him. He carded his fingers through Phil’s hair and replied softly, “I would love to get a coffee, Phil.”_ _ _ _

____Phil's entire demeanor switched at that, grin melting across his features. He sat up, leaning forwards to peck Dan’s lips chastely. “Do you want to shower first? It’s just next door,” Phil said, gesturing towards his bedroom door with his chin._ _ _ _

____Dan shrugged, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He reached for his pants from the floor and pulled them back on, getting to a standing position. “I don’t mind, but that would be good, thanks,” he replied nonchalantly, hands on hips._ _ _ _

____Phil nodded and got out of bed as well, neglecting putting on any underwear until he waltzed across the room to his dresser and started rummaging around one of the drawers. He pulled on a clean pair of underwear and turned to Dan again. “You can borrow some of my clothes, if you like. Better than dressing in last night’s outfit,” Phil said, gesturing over his shoulder to his open drawers overflowing with a rainbow of t-shirts._ _ _ _

____“Sure. Yes, please,” Dan babbled, stepping over to the drawer. He pulled out a white t-shirt which had a little cartoon heart guy on one corner of the chest and then a pair of black skinny jeans. Thank goodness for their similar sizes. “I’ll just, uh, go shower, then?”_ _ _ _

____And then he left the room to go find the toilet._ _ _ _

____Dan dumped all of Phil’s stuff on top of the toilet seat and turned on the tap. The water ran freezing cold on his arm and he jumped back, squeaking in surprise. While he waited for the water to heat up, he put the clothes on the sink and went to the toilet quickly. When the glass of the shower was starting to steam, Dan shut the lid, replaced the clothes and stepped inside._ _ _ _

____The water was boiling hot as it rained down on him, soaking him with the steaming liquid. He reveled in the intense heat, feeling it relax his muscles which were tight with sleep. Shutting his eyes, Dan tilted his head up a bit in tranquility, taking a moment to step back from the rest of the world. The water beat down on him, seemingly the only thing that existed besides him at that moment. Just like the bathroom through the foggy glass, the world blurred into hardly anything._ _ _ _

____After a moment of just standing there in the warmth, Dan reached for Phil’s shampoo to wash his hair. He laughed out loud when he saw that it was supposedly “Rainforest Flowers” scented. Why was he not surprised?_ _ _ _

____Dan squeezed out the cool white gel onto his hands, rubbing them together and running his fingers through his curls. It did in fact smell very strongly of bright tropical flowers and Dan could have imagined he was showering in a rainforest, instead of in a tiny flat in London. He lathered up his brown locks with the thick soap, suds getting everywhere. After a minute, he rinsed it out again, watching the white foam sliding down his skin and down the drain until the water ran clear._ _ _ _

____Phil’s body wash was a bright red colour, smelling strongly of vanilla and raspberry. Dan rubbed it carefully over his entire body, lungs filling with the vibrant scent. There was something that made Dan giddy about using Phil’s shampoo and body wash, something childish and exciting because he was in _someone else’s shower! _It was invigorating and fun and this feeling followed him all the way back to Phil’s room after he had gotten dressed into the skinny jeans and white tee.___ _ _ _

______Phil beamed when Dan entered, eyes roving over his body with a childlike excitement not unlike Dan’s just a moment ago. He was wearing black jeans as well, along with a button down shirt with pugs all over it. He was absolutely adorable, especially with his mismatched socks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You ready to go?” Phil asked, raising his eyebrows._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Definitely.”_ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
